The Rancher's Redemption. Melinda Curtis

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      “You think Ben convinced Rachel to back off?” Ethan said to Jon.

      “Nope.” Jon eyed Ben like the time he’d caught him trying to feed his beets to the family dog under the table.

      Ethan tsked. “Then he’s going to need a pair of jeans and boots.”

      “He’s your size, not mine.” Jon knelt and rubbed his dog’s black ears.

      “I’m standing right here, gentlemen.” Ben shook his head. “I’m not going to be staying long enough to wear boots.”

      “He’ll be in boots by sunup.” Jon gave Ben a half smile.

      “Definitely.” There was nothing half about Ethan’s smile. It was wider than a pregnant heifer’s hips.

      The sun beat down on the back of Ben’s neck. He sighed and shook his head once more. He had things to do. The latest in Montana water rights to research. And the legal precedents behind those rights. “I don’t have time to play home on the range.”

      “He wants us to think he hasn’t forgiven us for being right,” Ethan said smugly.

      “I haven’t,” Ben said as darkly as any villain.

      Jon ignored him, continuing to pat his dog on the head. “But we know better, because there’s no other reason he’d show up in Falcon Creek.” Ben’s older brother was far too smug when he added, “Family means forgiveness.”

      Ben scowled, possibly with his entire body. “When you apologize for humiliating me, then I’ll forgive you.”

      Five years ago, Jon and Ethan had presented their case for letting the revised wedding plans and ensuing drama play out. They’d thought Zoe was wrong for him. And sure, Ben had probably dodged a bullet when Zoe chose to marry a wealthier Blackwell, but he lived by the strict rules of the court. He’d been wronged. Restitution had never been made. His brothers owed him a sincere apology and a reason to trust again.

      “You’re lucky I’m here at all.” Ben lowered his chin. “I wouldn’t have come if Big E and Zoe were home.”

      “That solves where he’s sleeping.” Ethan pointed toward the henhouse near the main barn.

      Jon chuckled, albeit briefly, and then stood. “But seriously, Ben, I’m glad you came home. All hands on deck tonight. We’ll need you to bus tables for the ranch guests. Mrs. Gardner is helping us out and making tamales.”

      “I’m not the hired help,” Ben said firmly, despite the prospect of homemade tamales. “I’m your lawyer.” For two weeks and two weeks only.

      “Prima donna, more like,” Jon muttered. “I suppose your pride won’t let you come inside until you’ve had a poke at someone. Go ahead. Give it your best shot, little brother.” He angled his jaw Ben’s way.

      Ben’s fingers clenched so hard around the handles of his briefcase and suitcase, his knuckles popped.

      Ethan hurried to stand between the two. “Or we could go inside, have a beer and give Ben a chance to get even with a couple hands of poker.” Ethan wasn’t smiling when he turned to Ben. “I told you. Big E and Zoe have run away. The ranch is in trouble, both financially and in terms of resources. Primarily, water resources. We need you.”

      Without another word, Ethan and Jon walked inside their old family home. With one inquisitive look at Ben, the black-and-white dog followed, leaving Ben little choice but to do the same.

      Ben crossed the threshold and stopped. “What the—” He nearly dropped his bags. He turned, looking outside to make sure he was still in Montana. There were the Rockies. No mistaking those peaks. He turned to take in the interior once more.

      The house looked like a Wild West boudoir. Red velvet wallpaper. Crystal chandeliers. Furniture that wasn’t for flopping on at the end of a hard day on a ranch. The chairs and sofa were white and prim, not to mention they weren’t made for anyone over six feet in height. A black lacquered table with gold pinstripes sat in the dining room in front of a large gilded mirror that looked like the one the evil queen used in Snow White.

      “Zoe redecorated.” Jon sounded disgusted.

      “You should see the master bedroom.” Ethan sounded horrified.

      “Or not,” Ben murmured.

      Both brothers turned to Ben, who was trying to remember what the place had looked like when he’d left. Blue plaid couch. Brown leather recliner. Coffee table scarred with circles from glasses of ice tea and cold cans of beer.

      “You dodged a bullet,” Jon said.

      “In other words...” Ethan slung his arm around Jon’s shoulders and grinned at Ben. “You should thank us.”

      Jon tipped his hat back. “Yep.”

      “Nice try, but you’re missing the point.” Ben didn’t want to come inside, but he did anyway. Far enough in that he could see the kitchen, with its white marble counters, pink-trimmed cabinets and sparkly pink tile backsplash.

      “He’s not forgiving us,” Ethan said, hanging his head.

      “Not yet,” Jon said.

      Not ever. That’s what Ben wanted to say.

      But the words stuck in his throat as firmly as that red velvet wallpaper was stuck on the wall.

      * * *

      THE DOUBLE T was quiet when Rachel pulled up in front of the main house after she’d left her office.

      The late afternoon heat lingered, but would soon give way to the evening mountain chill. Rachel took a moment to study the ranch house, seeing beyond the white clapboard that needed paint to how it must have looked in the 1920s when it was new. Dormered windows. Black shutters. Gray metal roof. Great-Grandpa Thompson had built the house for his bride.

      When Rachel was growing up, at this time of day, there would’ve been ranch hands finishing up their chores, preparing to go home or to cook something in the bunkhouse. Today, only Henry, the ranch foreman, and Tony, a part-time ranch hand remained. And the yard was empty.

      “Ga-ga-ga-gahhh,” Poppy said from the rear seat of the truck. How Rachel’s baby loved the sound of her own voice.

      “Yes, sweetheart.” Rachel smiled as she walked carefully around to open the door. She was still wearing her suit and heels, not having time to stop at her little house on the other side of town and change. She had a number of chores to do here before Poppy’s bedtime. “We’re going to see your grandma and mine.” Her mother would feed Poppy and give her a bath while Rachel did some ranch paperwork. She freed Poppy from her car seat and grabbed her diaper bag.

      “Na-na-na-nahhh.” Poppy clapped her little hands and then pointed to the house, a regal command that made Rachel laugh.

      “You’re a princess, just like I was.” She’d had the best of both worlds—a cowgirl with Daddy’s credit card. Although nowadays, she wished she’d been raised differently. If Dad had demanded she work on the ranch, she’d be better equipped to СКАЧАТЬ